Poetry That Takes a Front Seat

ABOVE THE CEMENT by Joie Cook

She walks,
Her tombstone eyes
Buried in the concrete
Past New Orleans potholes
From Chippewa Street
Down to Napoleon Avenue

She is the anonymous necromantic
Searching through telephone directories
For relatives and lovers who could steal her ideas
And later ride the St. Charles streetcar
Where old men twitch away the flies
And mumble about corruption.